An American Intervention, Part I
by Alaska Grace Spegleman
Summary: Honestly, I was fine living in my tiny little flat on the corner of Fleet Street. For a starving American artist trying to get away from Americans, the place was great. Then the Doctor popped in and flipped my whole world around, telling me that I'm going to die unless I hop into his magic police box. So, to save my skin, I followed him in. And boy, what an adventure we had.
1. Prologue

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _The Doctor to be portrayed in the prologue of this fanfiction is the 10th Doctor, played by David Tennant*. Throughout the rest of this particular fanfiction is the 11th Doctor played by Matt Smith. I just felt the need to specify that, but I supposed you can re-imagine him into the Doctor of your desire as you read. Enjoy!_

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I sat outside a little coffee house on the corner of a busy little intersection. Which intersection and which coffee house, Heaven knows… but I remember that this coffee house was sweet to the nose and to the eyes. It was washed in the gentle brown of cocoa beans and striped in a dark forest green. There were iron tables where I sat waiting for my father. Inside there was a lot of cigarette smoke, and since my asthma was worse when I was younger, I was forced to stay outside for my well-being. But when the door opened, and just beneath the smoke, I would smell the sickening sweet smell of icing and warm coffee.

Those days, I refused to have my sketchpad anywhere that wasn't by my side. I remember how I clutched it tightly to my little chest, my lead pencils in my fist. Even though I was right by the door and could see my father at the counter, ordering his afternoon coffee and getting me a slice of pie to go, I was so scared of every stranger that passed. My older sister, before she moved out, had been mugged and nearly beaten to death, which has caused me from an early age to be terrified of anyone I didn't know. My sketchpad that held all of my secret doodles, my wishes, was the only thing that calmed me down.

As I sat there, marveling at the foreign city of London, so much like my home in New York, I remember hearing this… this whirring sound, like a machine trying to start up. Then suddenly, there across the street, was a great blue police box. I searched through my mind, but I knew it wasn't there before. It was strange and so out of place… stranger still was the fact that no one seemed to bother paying attention to it. Like, it was _normal_ for them.

Then a man stepped out of it, nearly as out-of-place as the police box. Tall, skinny sort of fellow, with his ginger hair frayed at the top, a modern, stylish mess. He wore a long brown coat and a vest, and relatively plain trousers and shoes. Casually, he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around wildly, like he was waiting for someone. Then he walked off into the crowd and practically disappeared.

It was then that I threw open my sketchpad to a clean, pristine white page. The police box was just in my line of sight, and I picked my best pencil and began to sketch. I was ten at the time, I think, and the lines weren't very good, but I was well on my way until I heard a voice above me.

"Is that the Tardis?"

I looked up shyly. It was him.

"The police box. Are you drawing that blue police box over there?" He pointed across the street. Barely giving me any time to nod, he talked on.

"I say, that's actually very good. How old are you?" He sat down in the metal chair beside me. I whispered, "Ten,"

"Well, that a wonderful drawing for a ten-year-old."

"Thank you," I whispered, and ceased my sketching.

"Now, don't stop on my account." He glanced around the area. "Are you waiting for you parents?"

I nodded.

"I'm waiting for someone too. Someone very, very important…" His eyes were distant as he looked around the area we sat in again. "Tell you what – since we're both waiting, why don't we have a chat?"

I said nothing. I was too nervous, thinking about my sister and her near-death experience. And even at the age of ten I was aware of pedophiles and perverts. He seemed to guess this and nodded.

"Alright then. I was always more of a talker anyways. I love London in December. It's nearly always snowing."

Just moments ago, flurries had drifted down from the swelling grey skies. He looked up.

"Do you like snow?"

I nodded.

"Good. Good… expect lots of it." The strange man tapped his finger impatiently on the table before looking at me, almost as if he recognized me."What's your name?"

"Grace," I said before I could stop myself. I should be worried about what this man could do to me, but I saw no evil in him. And, even when I was younger, I could sort of feel the evil and darkness inside people. Everyone had the darkness to some extent, but not many had pure evil. Even less had good shining through, and that's all I saw in this man. Good and hope and care, laced with a sort of pain that runs deep into the core of one's being.

"That's a very pretty name. Did you know, 'Grace' means 'forgiving and gentle?'"

I shook my head.

"Well, its meaning really derives from–"

"Grace,"

My father stood behind the man, his coffee and my pie in his hands. He eyed the man warily, but I could tell that he found no harm in him. My father nodded his head.

"Let's head back to the hotel, alright? This'll turn into a blizzard in no time."

Without a word, I rose to leave. The man seemed ready to do the same, until I paused and opened my sketchpad. I carefully tore out the paper with his Tardis on it, scribbled the date and my name on the back, and handed it to him. I don't know why I wanted him to have it, but I know it mad me happy when he took it carefully from me.

"Thank you. I'll be keeping this safe until we meet again."

As we walked away, I could help but look back at him, holding my scribbling in his hand. He was so sure that we would meet sometime in the future, but at the time I highly doubted it.

If I had known what I knew now, I would have stopped myself from ever going back to London. It would have saved me so much heartache.


	2. Chapter One

London, 2024

"Eight years, Gracie," said Bernie as he carefully began to peg his artwork on the white walls nearest to him. "Eight years I've been slavin' away over a brush an' easel. And do ya know how much I make in my slavin'?"

I shrug as I hang up my own art work – a favorite of mine, with a young girl cleaning the inside of a bubble she was trapped in – and talk to him over my shoulder. "How much, Bern?"

"Six pounds. Six pounds, Grace, for eight years of trouble." Bernie pegs the last of his work up and moves back to his stool. He rubs his knees as he sits and gulps down the tea he's brought along with him. Bernie's and old sort of artist, painting portraits of long faces and swirly figures. They were beautiful, though his arthritis has rendered his good hand practically unusable and therefore some of the proportions are a little off.

"Times are tough."

"Tougher than they used to be. I remember when I could buy my cigarettes for hardly a sixpence."

I pegged up the last of my whimsical figures and moved to the table I had set up at the beginning of my section. With the money I scraped up from under the couch, I was able to make prints of some of the larger pieces I wasn't able to bring with me. I glanced over them fondly.

"It's a sign, then, for you to stop smoking."

Bernie made a snorting sound and took a drink of his tea. He offered to pour some into the lid of his thermos, but I motioned to the coffee that I had set aside.

"I'm and old man, soon to be done runnin' my race. Let me have my pleasures."

I set aside my coffee. "Don't talk like that, Bern."

He shrugged, opened his mouth to say something, and then changed his mind when the door to the exhibit opened and in walked a young couple. Bernie finished off the last of his tea and set aside his thermos as they came to him asking about his inspiration. In a sort of foggy haze I heard his usual story; his wife, Odette, died not too long ago, and painting was his way of keeping himself in good company. Out of sympathy, they bought an over-priced portrait of an older woman.

When they glanced at my artwork and walked on, I shook my head. "You're a terrible man, Bernie."

The old man shrugged and nodded at the next small group of people. In all truth, Bernie's wife was sleeping on their rickety old couch at home, her sprained ankle resting atop a pile of dingy pillows. Really, I wish I had the spirit to play my own sympathy card, but my week had gone on well enough without bringing up the memories of the past. So instead, I rose to greet some of the lookers who came my way and offered tidbits of information on "what was my muse" and "what sort of paints I used" and the like. Hardly anyone offered to by the works pegged to the walls, but my prints sold out and soon I had a nicely filled purse at my hip.

"'And the poor shall inherit the earth,'" Bernie wrongly quoted as he juggled his own purse. Four of his paintings had been bought, and not entirely out of sympathy.

"I believe it's 'the meek,' not 'the poor.'" He waved away my correction and pulled another painting off of his wall.

"I think the poor are just as unlucky as the meek, so it's all the same thing."

I shook my head, but smiled as an older woman offered to buy my spinning ballerina dressed as a flamingo.

"I simply adore the colors," she said, and handed me the correct amount of money. I thanked her kindly before she walked away.

Adding the money to my purse, I sat down and signed a little painting I had done for fun. The canvas was hardly any bigger than my hand, and I told the child who wanted me to sign it that it was free of charge. Her parents thanked me and walked off to see the rest of the exhibit.

"Lovely artwork," someone above me said as I counted my money. Fearful of losing my place, I didn't look up.

"Well, everything's for sale,"

"Then I'll take it all."

My hand paused and I looked up, heart pounding. The man who looked down at me wore an old fashioned suit with shades of brown on his vest, trousers, and long coat. His hair was wild brown hair the color of chocolate that flipped in such a way that I wasn't sure if it was on purpose or because of carelessness. His eyes were strange, familiar eyes; a pale green, like the ocean after the sun clears away the rain. They were laced with hope and kindness and something deeper, stronger than that. I realized then that I knew those eyes, but I didn't know how.

Finally, I shook myself out of my daze. "You want to buy _all_ of it?"

"Oh, I will, eventually, when you're famous."

I couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Yea, well, going from rags to riches isn't that simple, pal."

"Isn't it?"

He looked at me with his eyebrows raised, the hollow of his eyes twinkling in delight. He smiled, and I nearly melted.

"I'm sorry," I looked around at the people who skimmed over my artwork, making sure that they could see him too. They turned to use curiously. "Do I know you? I feel like we've met before."

"Yes, some time ago, a very long time for me, but I suppose only a decade for you. It doesn't help that I had a different face then. But you have seen me before, with that other face, in this time, before I actually met you."

I blinked. "What?"

He didn't seem to hear me, but looked around the room. "Is there somewhere we could talk? Somewhere without all of those…" his eyes bounced from the security cameras around the room.

"The only place I can think of that isn't being watched is my flat, but–"

"Perfect! We'll go there."

He went to grab my wrist and I jerked it away. "Excuse you, but in America girls don't go home with men they just met. Well, some do but _honorable_ Americans don't. Besides," I motioned to the paintings around me. "I'm sort of doing something right now."

Before I blinked he stepped in close, closer than I would have liked, and spoke in a low whisper. "Listen to me, Grace, if you want to live you need to come with me."

"What are you talking about?"

He let out a deep breath, as if preparing himself. "The me before this one, my previous body, he came back here to save you but it was already too late."

"Wh-what?"

"Please, I can't explain everything now, but please," he glanced up at on of the security cameras. Its angle had shifted to look directly at us, and I felt something cold run down my spine. "_We need to go_."

In that moment, the moment of worry between the decisions you make and the thoughts that run through your head, I searched this man's eyes for truth. That was all that rang back to me was truth and that sense of good that I remember feeling so long ago. And in that moment I knew that I could trust him. That I could trust him with anything, even my life.

"Bernie!" I shouted as I grabbed my coat, "Bern, look after my show, yea?" – I shrugged on my coat and wrapped my scarf around my neck – "I'll give you half the commission, alright? Just look after it."

From behind me the old man tried to argue, but the brown-coated man before me grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the crowd and out the door. The winter air bit me like a snake and I shivered, but the man pulled me relentlessly down the walk and around the corner. We passed the tube and three waiting busses, but we kept running.

"It's faster if we call a caddie," I huffed, trying to button my coat and run at the same time.

He stopped at a corner and looked in each direction. "Too dangerous."

"How is taking a cab dangerous?" Ignoring me, he held tightly to my wrist and ran across the busy street, dodging and jumping in front of oncoming cars with me in tow as I screamed and forced my heart to stay behind my ribcage. Once we reached the other side of the street, he took of down the walk, and turned. Before us was the entrance to my flat, though I distinctly remembered that I had not told him where I lived. As he pushed the door open, I could only stare after him.

"C'mon, this _is_ your home."

"Yea… it is…"

Blinking stupidly, I stepped in after him and into the lift. When we arrived at my flat, he shot inside like a rocket and closed every curtain and locked every window, while looking wildly around the room. I found myself embarrassed at the old couch and cracked coffee table, and the kitchen that needed a good rub-down, and my messy desk and spilled paints. When he disappeared into my bedroom, I hoped to God that I had remembered to put away my laundry.

"Sit. Sit down. Catch your breath." He ordered kindly when he reappeared with a technical looking contraption glowing in his hand. I obeyed as he moved to the window above my desk and flipped open the curtain just enough so that he could see.

"What's happening?" I took a deep breath, trying to pace my heart that was threatening to beat its way out of my chest. I looked to him. "Who are you?"

"Me?" he lifted a shoulder. "Oh, nobody, nobody really, but I go by 'the Doctor.'"

My eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Who?"

"The Doctor."

"The… Doctor."

"That's what I said."

The Doctor stared intently out the window, his square jaw clenched in concentration. He was an odd sight, with that little glowing thingy whirring away whenever he pointed it at something. After a moment of silence, he closed the curtain and put his contraption away.

"It's all clear, for now." The Doctor strode over to the couch and sat on the armrest. "Are you alright?"

"Ha!" I pretend to laugh. "Alright? I was told that I was going to die, or apparently had died already in some other parallel universe, and was just towed around London by some man I've never met but still seems to know where I live. So yes," I looked to him. "I'm completely, totally, 'all-right.'"

Then, to keep myself from bursting into tears uncalled for, I slammed my head down on the coffee table. Granted, that hurt a little, but now I could tear up for a totally different reason.

"Grace," the couch creaked as the Doctor moved to sit beside me. His hand rested on my back and warmth spread through me. "I know it's a lot to take in, and I'm sorry. But it's for your own good." His hand moved off my back, and through the curtain of my hair I saw him rest his elbows on his knees.

"There's nothing harder than trying to escape death. Harder still is trying to explain death to someone who just barely escaped it. But – are you listening, Grace? – you've got so much more in your life to look forward to.

"I told you that you have seen me before, just with another face. At that time, I was called by the Ood – a very intelligent alien race – where they told me about you. That I needed to save you. But I found no need in hurrying. I didn't take their warning seriously, and my carelessness came at the cost of your life."

I sat up slowly, pushing my hair out of my face, unbelief tingling beneath my skin. The Doctor stared off at the wall, lost in his story.

"It wasn't until after you died that I remember where I had first known you. You were a child," he sat up and reached into an inner coat pocket. "You were visiting with your father in London at the same time I had to meet with an old friend. We talked, and you drew me this."

He removed a worn piece of sketch paper, yellowed with age and weathered along the creases where it had been folded and unfolded numerous times before. After unfolding it, he handed it to me. It was a crude sketch of a police box, with indecisive lines and poor shading. I'd recognize my amateur artwork anywhere. I turned it around and, sure enough, _Grace Moon, 2004_, was scribbled hastily in the top right corner. All the images swarmed back like disturbed bees, buzzing behind my eyes as I remembered everything. His face was more painful then, like he was an old captain who had survived a storm only to find that the rest of his crew had died.

"You… you kept it?"

The Doctor nodded, and a sort of pride swelled in my chest. "I recognized you then, thought I didn't know it was you until a while after my regeneration." He saw my face and chuckled. "My natural facial reconstruction. It was then that I decided that I was going to right my wrong. I traveled to the day before yesterday and waited."

"And now? What do we do now? Who are the people trying to," I paused, tasting the word before I spit it out, "kill me?"

By the look on his face, he was so sure himself. "I don't know. And it's not a person. Though they are wise the Ood are terribly hard to decipher when it comes to visions of the future."

"But you've figured it out?" The sad look in his eyes confirmed my question. "Tell me. Please, Doctor, I need to know what's going on here."

The Doctor looked at me softly. "What they told me, what they warned me off, it might frighten you a bit."

I sat up as straight as I could. "I dunno, us Americans tend to be pretty tough in the face of fear and adversary." Still, he looked at me like I was a kicked puppy. I sighed. "Really, though. Tell me."

"They said to me, the first time they told me to find you, that was searches to kill you is not of earthly origin, and that… that it will always hunt you, and that all I can do is delay the inevitable."

"…oh." I took a deep breath, trying to steady my pulse. "So, even if you do save me this time, the thing, the alien or whatever, will always try to kill me?"

Slowly, sadly, the Doctor nodded.

"So much for being tough in the face of fear and adversary." I laughed, and then choked back a sob that stuck like a knot in my throat. The first tear fell without my permission and before I knew it, I was a mess of puddles and sobs in the Doctor's arms. He tried to calm me down by patting my hair, something my father used to do when I was upset. Thinking about all of that forced me to quite my sobbing, though I had to blink a few more tears out of my eyes.

"Why me?" I asked him, keeping my voice low and steady.

"That's what I'm trying to find out. The thing that's chasing you is a Timeworm, a sort of being that can't stay in one specific plane for too long. A very, very long time ago it would simply move through the fabric of time without hardly causing a ripple, but recently, ever since out meeting, it has backtracked through time and had succeeded in killing you in multiple parallel planes."

"Isn't killing me once enough?" I asked.

"No," he said quite ordinarily, like we were discussing the weather and not, oh, my life. "You see, the way the Timeworm works is that is must kill its target in every parallel plane, until the possibility of me ever returning to shave you diminishes completely. And, if I am correct, you are the last you out there."

I threw myself back on my couch, which creaked unhappily beneath me. Trying to take it all in, I closed my eyes and ran through everything he had just said to me. "Wait, wait, what about the little me, like, when I was younger?"

The Doctor shrugged. "The Timeworm could decide to kill you in your younger state, depending on how old it is. You see, the younger the Worm, the easier it is for it to go farther back in time. But as it gets older, the easiest way for it to move is forward. So, to keep itself alive, it will only move forward to here, this time…" the Doctor paused to look around my small flat. "Now."

I leaned forward as I saw a worried look fill his eyes. In a ready stance he looked about the room, as if he was waiting for something.

"Doctor?"

"Shh, shh, shh," he held up one hand and removed his tool with the other.

"What is that thing, anyways?"

"My sonic screwdriver. My ever-reliable acquaintance." He jumped over to the window and held open the curtain. Slowly, I stood up.

"You said 'now,' Doctor. 'Now,' as in that thing is coming for me now?"

He held up his hand and turned to me to say something. Before he could utter a syllable the building quaked and I fell to my knees. The Doctor reached out to me just as the floorboards beneath my couch splintered into the air and fell in a wooden rain all around us. A spiky pink head burst through the new hole, a circular mouth filled with thousands of thin razor-like teeth screeched a horrible, terrifying sound. The Timeworm whipped its head around, sniffing blindly for me. I froze, hands and knees immobile as it slurped and spat into the air before turning its toothy face around. Three feet away, it reared back and hissed.

"Doctor!"

He grabbed my elbow just as the Timeworm lunged and hurled the both of us out the shattered window.


	3. Chapter Two

I shook my head and was met with a heavy drumming behind my eyes. The world was a blur of white snow and rising blobs of color and movement. Someone shouted at me, but their words were muffled and alien. I shook my head again and the world began to clear. The Doctor hovered over me, the light from the streetlamp above creating a halo affect around his hair.

"Time to get up, Gracie, come on," he was saying, "'Atta girl, that's it," he put his hand on my lower back to help sit me up.

A howl like a bird dying and a cat hissing pounded through my head, and the Doctor pulled me up off of the mountain of potato sacks we had luckily landed on. I looked up, and above us the Timeworm stuck its slimy, prickly head out the window. Globs of saliva dripped onto my shoulder and the Doctor pulled me across the street.

"Where are we going?"

"The Tardis!"

The little blue box I had drawn came to mind and I looked at him as if he were crazy. "How is a police box going to help us? I don't think the authorities can handle–" A great scream that sent gooseflesh along my arms broke into the night, and the people behind us shouted in fear. The Timeworm had thrown itself, all twenty feet of it, out of my flat window and began its slithering trek towards us. The Doctor pulled me into a café, through the eating area and past a few worried kitchen workers, and into the back lot. The Tardis sat there lightly powdered in snow. I looked at the Doctor. He looked at me.

"Don't worry; it's bigger on the inside."

He snapped his fingers and the doors opened, and without a word he hauled me inside.

The interior lengthened and all around me curved cement awnings and walkways, all around a tube that glowed blue with panels and wild buttons encircling it. It wasn't until I saw the Doctor pulling one of the levers and twisting the knobs that I realized my mouth was open.

"You better hold on to something," the Doctor jerked another level and a familiar whirring sound encased us. I shut my mouth and teetered over to a handle that jutted out of the panel, gripping it tightly. Outside, the Timeworm screeched and rammed itself against the Tardis doors.

"Oh, no you don't beastie," the Doctor typed something into a panel, "Not today."

Suddenly we were shaking, and the Timeworm's howling was replaced by the whirring and clicking of the Tardis, and I knew, I knew that we were traveling up and backward through time. I held on shakily to the handle until we came to a complete, uncomfortably silent stop. The Doctor looked at me around his gadgets and gizmos.

"It's alright now," he set his hands over mine and pried my fingers from the handle. My knuckles hurt from gripping it so hard, and he held them for a moment in his hands. "Everything is alright, Grace,"

His eyes caught me, made me believe that, even if for the moment, everything was okay. I nodded, and he held my hands a second longer than necessary. He dropped them and turned for the door.

"You won't be needing that coat and scarf anymore," he said as he pushed the door open. The sound of waves crashing against the shoreline and gulls calling along the gulf seeped into the Tardis. There was music some ways off, and, curious, I stepped outside.

We were surrounded by nature, a towering cliffside behind us and a roaring ocean ahead. Waves foamed when they slapped against the beach, and sprayed the air as they roared against the rocks in the shallows. In the distance, a great Ferris wheel twinkled and turned. It was a boardwalk carnival, and the haunting circus music mingled with the swish of the waves.

"August, 1952. We're on Whitechapel beach, in Maine." The Doctor stuck his hands into his pockets and squinted against the setting sun. "Ah, a car-na-val."

I blinked, shedding my coat and scarf. "We're in America? In 1952?"

"In Maine, in August," the Doctor smiled and took my winter wear and tossed them into the Tardis. "Since I'm not sure of the Timeworm's age I moved us back a bit, just to be safe."

"You moved us back nearly a hundred years."

He began to walk along the beach towards the carnival. "Seventy-two, to be exact." He paused to look back at me. Offering his arm, he smiled, saying, "Come along now. I do believe that's caramel corn I smell."

Just as he said it, the salty sweet smell of the treat drifted towards me on the wind. I took a deep breath, taking in the serenity of what encased us. And there, as I felt my body relax just a bit, I figured that if these were possibly that the hours of my life, I might as well enjoy them.

I skipped over to the Doctor and looped my arm through his. "As long as we're here, we've got to ride the carrousel."

"Of course,"

"And the Ferris wheel."

"Well, that's obvious. You can't go to any carnival and _not_ ride the Ferris wheel."

A laugh, a true, good laugh, burst out of me before I could catch it. It turned silly, and I couldn't stop laughing. Tears sprung into my eyes, happy ones, and I apologized as I wiped them away. "I'm sorry," I let out a low chuckle. "I haven't had a reason to laugh for a long time."

Knowingly, the Doctor patted my hand. "You can tell me all about it over a sticky mess of cotton candy, at the very tip top of the Ferris wheel." He looked so kindly down at me, his green eyes mirroring that of the ocean beside us. I smiled, and the corner of his mouth perked up into a grin.

So, daringly, I said, "It's a date."

And, more daringly, I suppose, he made no objection, and we stepped onto the boardwalk as if we had known each other all our lives.

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_**Sorry for the short chapter! For some weird reason of mine, I wrote too much to put in the 2nd chapter and split it up so that there could be a proper 3rd. Thank you for reading my FF! Tally ho! - A/G/S **_


	4. Chapter Three

I don't think I have ever had as much fun at a carnival as I did that one. The games we played were ones I hadn't seen since I was a child. Flour-filled sacks painted like clowns that you had to knock down with a baseball; the ring toss, a practically impossible game where you thrown your rings at the wide-necked bottles and still pray for a win. And even though I had not won a thing and the Doctor was able to win every time (except on the ring-toss, but I think he was just being nice) I think it was still the most fun I've had in a very long time.

The Doctor bought me cotton candy after we finished off the caramel corn, and stuffed his oversized stuffed panda bear under his arm.

"How do you know about this place?" I asked, my fingers already sticky with the cloudy pink sweets.

He lifted a shoulder and nodded to an older man who passed by. "I just so happened to have saved Whitechapel from a very irritable Ararook." We turned towards the Ferris wheel and there, in the middle of the boardwalk, was a statue of the Doctor holding his sonic screwdriver in the air while his foot rested on the belly of a scaly, gilled creature.

I laughed. "That seems a _bit_ over the top." Not that the Doctor was anything short of a hero, but the statue's comedic grin and heroic stance looked a little out of place. Plus, his chin looked a bit uneven.

"It's a good thing you haven't seen they one they have in town." His laugh made me look to him, and he smiled kindly, his green eyes twinkling. Then he offered his arm to me, and I looped the hand not holding the cotton candy through it and he led me to the Ferris wheel. I threw away the candy before we got to the line, and in a moment we were seated in a slightly uncomfortable, unstable metal oval. The bright bulbs around us began to twinkle, and the Ferris wheel began to climb up and up as loud circus music blared through the speakers. As we rocked a bit, I quickly grabbed the handle that held us in. My knuckles went white and I felt my pulse quicken as the boardwalk below us drifted farther away. I swallowed hard and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Grace?"

"There's something I forgot to tell you Doctor," I said, keeping my eyes closed and trying to steady my pulse. "I'm awfully afraid of heights and we seem to be very, very high."

"How would you know? You've got your eyes closed."

I swallowed hard, steadying my breathing. "I can feel it."

"Nonsense," the Doctor scoffed, and I felt the carriage seat rock as he shifted his position. Suddenly we came to a stop, and a gust of salty wind flicked my hair over my face.

"Grace," I felt his breath on my ear. "Grace, you really ought to look at this. It's absolutely beautiful."

I shook my head and gripped the handle harder. The Doctor's hands settled over mine, enveloping them in warmth.

"Listen, now, I've got you. You won't fall out of this carriage if I have anything to say about it. Understand?"

Slowly, I nodded, but kept my eyes closed. He pried my hands from the handle bar and held them in his.

"Now, look." He whispered in my ear, and, one at a time, I opened my eyes.

The sky behind us was a deep blue, so blue it was almost black, and half-way across the sky, stars blinked to life. Before us, the rest of the carnival stretched to the end of the boardwalk, strung with lights and laughter and dozens of tiny people smiling and enjoying themselves. Music mixed with the shouts of joy drifted up to us. And it was all basked in the sherbet light of the setting sun, which was now only a yellow sliver on the horizon surrounded by swirls of red clouds and the inky stretch of dark blue trying to claim the rest of the sky. I could see the town of Whitechapel, just over the bay, where children were turning out their lights and small white-washed houses glowed in the last rays of the sun. I was breathless for a moment, and then I laughed.

"It's so beautiful." I said, and turned towards the Doctor. He still held my hands in his, perfectly cupped between his long fingers. His thumb stroked my wrist absently as he stared out past me, where the sun had dipped below the horizon and the stars claimed the skies.

"You see," he finally turned to me as the sky darkened. "You can't live your life with your eyes shut. You'll end up missing all of this," he let go of my hands to motion to the world around us. The smile the beamed from his face could outshine any sun, and it made me smile too. Then I blinked, remembering something as he settled his arm on the back of the carriage, behind me.

"I promised to tell you about me, about why I haven't laughed for so long," I said.

"Ah yes, and here we are, at the very tip-top of the Ferris wheel. All that's missing is the cotton candy."

I laughed, but it felt forced. I looked at my hands sitting nervously in my lap, with their chipped purple paint, not holding onto the handlebar and not in the Doctor's hands. The carriage rocked when the Doctor leaned forward, but I didn't turn to look at him. Instead, I did the thing everyone does when they're nervous; I started blabbering on.

"You first saw me when I was ten, with my father. We, my whole family, we were touring Europe together. My mom figured, since she wasn't going to live long, she might as well live her last days to their fullest… She had a brain tumor."

The Doctor let out a low sigh. "Grace…"

But I didn't let him finish. I didn't want to hear the usual, "I'm sorry." I wanted to finish my story.

"We saw the Roman Coliseum, we saw the Leaning Tower of Pisa; we marveled at Stone Hedge and climbed all one thousand, seven-hundred and ten steps up the Eiffel Tower, but I loved London more than any of them. My mother went to school in London, an art school, and she told me all the time about how beautiful it could be. How people loved to pour themselves, their heart and their souls, into art." A tear plopped onto my wrist, another on my inner arm, but I kept talking, but I had never brought to life so many memories at once, and it hurt, oh, it hurt to remember, but it was beautiful too.

"She died when I was fourteen. She couldn't fight anymore, and I knew she was going to – to leave – soon, but – I couldn't." I gasped, the pain hitting me again, and I could hear the doctors in my head. _Your mother, she was a fighter. She lasted longer than we thought. But no one can fight forever._

"No one can fight forever," I stuttered, pressing the heels of my hands against my wet eyelids. "But she tried. Then… when I was seventeen, my father, his heart couldn't take it anymore. He had a heart attack after dinner, nearly died right there on the dining room floor. My sister, Lizzy, she drove him to the hospital, and he held on long enough, just long enough to tell me that I've got to keep fighting, too."

I closed my eyes, letting the reality of my past flow out of me, from the safe I've been holding it for so long. It was as if lead weights had been pressing, pressing against my chest, and now, finally, I was able to breathe again by telling it all to the Doctor.

"Lizzy died in a car accident when she was twenty-seven. I was twenty-three. Damn drunk driver," I forced out a laugh. I knew that the driver had walked away from the accident with a dislocated knee. He just walked away while Lizzy bled to death in her car. "That's when I moved to London. All of my happy memories were there. It was my… my sanctuary, I guess." I took a deep, long breath, the tears finally ceasing their flow, and I rubbed the wetness from my eyes. "I haven't had a real reason to laugh for a very long time."

"Grace," the Doctor leaned over to me and held my face in his hands. "What a fighter you are, my dear Grace. You have faced worlds of pain and anguish, yet you still fight. You are broken, you are cut and bruised and on the verge of shattering completely, but you still hold on." He rested his forehead against mine, looking up at me with watery green eyes. "Now, if you're not a fighter, goodness knows who is."

I shortly laughed, smiling, relishing the warmth I felt with the Doctor's head pressed against mine. Closing my eyes, I breathed him in, the smell of age and soap and machinery, the smell of sea-salt. If I could name what he felt like, how he made me feel in that moment of utter sensitivity… there's simply not a word that could describe it.

"Grace," I opened my eyes. We were back at the bottom of the Ferris wheel, where we could get off. The Doctor was holding my hands in his, smiling. "I think it's time to go,"

Heat rushed to my cheeks and I embarrassingly look down at my shoes as we got out. The carnie working the Ferris wheel smiled at us and shook his head. I swallowed hard, and the Doctor wrapped and arm around my waist.

"Oh, where to go, where to go? The Roman Coliseum? The Eastern Island Heads?" We walked back along towards the exit of the boardwalk carnival. The Doctor nodded to the ticket-master, who winked at him, and guided us back towards the beach. As we approached the Tardis, he let go of my waist and walked ahead a bit so that he could turn around and look at me.

"Where to, Ms. Moon?"

He grinned at me, throwing his arms open and gesturing to the world around him, to the impossible possibilities. I took a thoughtful breath and looked up.

"To the stars," I said, smiling up at the dark blue and twinkling white lights.

He laugh, lighting up his whole face. From me, he looked up at the sky and said dreamily, "To the stars, where we will seek adventure and have many reasons to laugh." The Doctor took my hands and kissed their knuckles, pulling me into the Tardis.


	5. Chapter Four

I woke up thinking I was one my old bed back in London, and I believed for a moment that the light around me was seeping in through my broken blinds. When I reached upward to pull them closed, my fingers rubbed up against soft wallpaper and trailed down to touch smooth and delicately carved wood. My hand dropped and sank into a comforter that swallowed me whole, and my eyes snapped open. I was shrouded in thin silken sheets, and the comforter was golden and intricately embroidered. I ran my hand over it, and as I moved the smell of rose petals wafted up from the mattress.

"Roses," I breathed in, "a rose-stuffed mattress." I felt like a queen and pushed my hair out of my face as I sat up. The bed was a canopy one, with the soft pink curtains tied back to the posts. The floors were of the same wood as the bed and covered in Persian rugs. I swung my feet out from under the sheets and felt the soft material of a nightgown tug at my legs. I fingered the material curiously.

"How did I–"

"Ah!" I jumped as the Doctor swung open the bedroom door and closed it quickly behind him. "You're up. Good. How'd you sleep?" He ran over to one of the open full-length windows and hung out of it to get a look around outside.

"Well," I looked back down at the nightgown. "I think."

"Good," the Doctor closed the window and swung the curtain over it. He ran around the bed and did the same to the other. It was only then did I realize that his hair was a springy mess, and half his tunic was unbuttoned, showing the smooth skin of his torso. He also wore trousers that cut off at the knee and stockings with heeled shoes and buckles. _Stockings and buckles_.

"Doctor?" I stood up, clenching the nightgown in my fist.

"Yes?" He pressed his ear against the door.

"Where am I?"

The room I stood in was richly furnished; a great marble vanity stood to my left with a little velvet covered stool. Atop it were powders, glass-bottled perfumes, combs and pearl brushes. A door on the other side of the room was open and lead to a closest filled with brightly colored dresses and buckled heels. Another full-length mirror was in that room, and the walls were papered with golden curls set against a background of rosy pink.

There was a moment of silence before the Doctor answered.

"Victorian London, 1838," he was content with whatever he had been listening after and stepped away from the door.

"And why can't I remember getting here? Or going to bed? Or," I shook the nightgown. "Or putting this on?"

The Doctor sat down on the bed and kicked off his heeled shoes. "Probably because you and Victoria hit it off quite well last night."

"Victoria?" My heart jumped to my throat. "You mean _Queen_ Victoria?"

"The very same." He fell back onto the bed and the sheets billowed up around him. "You wanted to see the stars and she was the first one that popped into my head."

"Doctor this – this is," I ran my fingers through my hair and spun around, giddy with unbelief. "I got drunk with Queen Victoria!"

"Yes, and she seemed to like you very, very much although not as much as she seems to have taken to me," he sat up on the bed and quickly began to fasten his tunic. I watched at his skin was once again hidden away, then blushed and looked away when he stood up and fixed his hair in the mirror.

Curiosity got the best of me. "So," I sauntered over to the vanity and picked up on of the pearl covered combs. "Did you and Victoria…?"

"Dear goodness, no," he seemed satisfied with his hair and ran his fingers quickly through it. "Almost, but no."

When he looked at me, I laughed, despite the jealousy that swelled in my stomach. One large chunk of hair was sticking out in a protest to be fixed. Without a thought I reached out to press it into place, running my fingers quickly through his hair to make sure it stayed down. It was only after I fixed his hair did I realize that he was staring at me. My hand fell still on his head, cupping his face, and I found myself sinking into his green eyes. Beneath my skin my pulse throbbed, and a thoughtful grin appeared on the Doctor's face.

The door suddenly swung open, making me jump with surprise. A pair of chamber maids scuttled into the room only to squeak and stand still when they saw me and the Doctor.

"Beggin' your pardon, Milord – Milady," they bowed, grinning. "We thought you were alone, Milady."

"I am. I mean, I'm not, but," I looked at the Doctor and quickly dropped my hand to my side. "But,"

Suddenly, the Doctor and I were tripping over each other, trying to find some way to explain.

"We weren't," he stuttered.

"He – we – didn't,"

"I mean, we could've,"

"We could've?" I raised my eyebrows, a blush spreading. I quickly shook my head. "But we didn't,"

"And _that's_ the important thing." The Doctor smiled, pleased with his explanation. The chambermaids looked back and forth between us before gently nodding.

"None of our business," one said.

"Quiet as a mouse," stated the other about the whole thing.

"But," the first stepped forward and grabbed the Doctor's elbow. "You mustn't be seein' the lady in her undergarments," She started pulling the Doctor towards the door.

"Really? She wears them quite well."

I blushed and grabbed a sheet to cover myself. The Doctor smiled at me over his shoulder.

"Sir, you must be leavin'. I know it's not in my place ta be seperatin' two lovers–"

"We're just friends," the Doctor and I stated at the same time. We glanced at each other. The chambermaid raised an eyebrow and pushed the Doctor out the door.

"But the lady must be gettin' ready now. And so should you."

And before the Doctor could get a word out, she shut the door and promptly locked it. Turning to me, she said, "Now, I know you must be right tired, Lady Moon,"

"I'm not tired," I blabbered as she guided me into the dressing room. "Not tired at all. No, I slept like a baby. Wonderful bed. Is it filled with rose petals?" I was trying to distract myself and them from the tomato-red blush that was taking over my face.

"I need no explanation, miss," she took the sheet from me and tossed it to the floor while the other girls laid out petticoats and frocks and buckles and stockings and layers of colorful fabric on a long bench. It made me begin to sweat just looking at it, and without warning the chambermaids double-teamed me and yanked the nightgown over my head and forced me into the petticoat and frock. I could hardly get a breath out before they laced me into a corset, and though the result was flattering, I felt like my insides were slowly being pushed out of me.

Layer after layer of cotton underskirts and lace and silk patterns were thrown over my head until finally the chambermaids were finished having their way with me. Since I had trouble moving in the ridiculous heels, they helped me turn towards the mirror.

"Who's that standing in my way?" I asked, so unlike myself I looked. It was a rhetorical question, but the maids chuckled and said, "That's you, Milady,"

The dress billowed out around me like a bell and was bunched about my arse in what I suppose was fashionable. The underskirts were ruffled and a pale gold that look so much like the real thing, since the material shimmered when it caught the light. The neckline plunged to show most of my cleavage and I gasped, which was a mistake since the corset, though giving me a daring hour-glass figure, made me save my breath. Then I figure, "oh well, I won't live long… I guess I'll show what I've got!" The sleeve stopped in silky ruffles at the elbow, and I must have looked three inches taller.

"Now, hair,"

They yanked me across the bedroom and sat me down on the vanity stool. The dressed puffed up around me like a fabric prison as they yanked at my dark hair.

"A lovely color," one of them said, "an almost black, I would say."

"Chestnut," I put in as they pulled my hair into thick curls at the top of my head. The maid repeated it as if she were tasting chocolate. As one maid adjusted a single ringlet to settle over my shoulder, the other strung a line of pearls twice around my throat. Hanging from the pearls was a dark green gem. An _emerald_. I was wearing an actual, legitimate emerald. I began to wonder how much it would sell for back home.

"There," they said together, and I looked up at the mirror. Though my hair looked like I had a curly brown hydrangea on my head, I thought it was lovely. They had placed pearl studded pins in my hair for show, and the emerald color made me look porcelain instead of pasty. Emerald, I thought, and wondered at how it would compliment the Doctor's eyes. I shook my head, which was more like moving with a book taped to my head, and sighed.

After a quick puff of powder and a rub of rouge and lip stain, the maids helped me up off the stool and lead me to the door.

"That doctor friend of yours will faint when he sees you," tittered the first maid. I looked down at her.

"I mean…" she grinned, "he probably won't think twice about your dress."

_No_, I thought, as we began to walk to was I supposed was the entrance to the garden. _He'll be too busy second-looking this neckline_.

They opened the doors for me, but that's where their company stopped. Before me stretched a long red carpet, which lead to a canopy of purple fabric in which the Queen and her ladies-in-waiting sat under. I smiled nervously at the footmen who lined the path, and walked slowly, not to be elegant and graceful, but because I felt that any speed above tortoise would send me tripping and falling all over the place. Though my feet ached, The clipped square hedges and stone fountains in the gardens were beautiful, smelling so much like spring back home.

I jumped as the Doctor popped out of nowhere and set my hand in the crook of his elbow. I nearly fell over from laughing and tried hard not to smirk. His was in a peacock-blue waist and tailcoat, the undershirt a dark purple, and his stockings were horrifyingly yellow. They even put him in a wig. I gave up trying not to laugh and set a hand over my mouth to keep from snorting.

"Yes, well you've had your fun." He frowned playfully.

"Oh, no, you look absolutely–" I bit my knuckles and looked away.

"Dreadful. And these damned stockings keep riding up."

"I did _not_ need to know that."

The Doctor scoffed and held me out at arms length. "Well, look at you. You fit in to the Victorian Era quite nicely."

"It was a nightmare to get on."

"Well," he patted my hand. "You look lovely."

He grinned at me and I looked away, another small blush creeping into my cheeks. We reached the canopy, and the petite Queen herself stood to great us.

"Gracie, darling," she pulled me as close as our dresses would allow and hugged me tightly.

_The Queen,_ I mouthed to the Doctor.

_I know,_ he mouthed back, smiling.

"I ought to punish you for running out like that," she said, and pulled the Doctor in for a hugged that lasted an awkward second too long.

The Doctor patted her back. "Oh, that's really not necessary."

When Victoria stepped back, she smiled at the both of us and looked to me. "And what a drinker you are, my dearest Gracie," she grasped my hands and I tried not to faint, which was hard because of the corset. "I hope to have you in court a thousand times over."

"I don't think I can handle that much wine," I joked, earning a giggled from the Queen and a small smile from the Doctor.

"Please, sit, enjoy the spring air. Ladies," her ladies-in-waiting stood and made room on the long cushioned benches for us, but crowded around the Doctor. Victoria settled in her high-backed chair and, surprisingly, turned her attention to me.

"Are you fairing well in London, Lady Moon?"

"Oh," I nodded, sitting stick-straight because of my corset. "It's lovely. And your garden – beautiful!"

"I had hoped that you would like it. After hearing you talk on about your Central Park I thought it best to show what real trees look like."

That I would say anything about New York caught me off guard, but a quick nod from the Doctor told me that she was aware of our certain time-travel occupation.

"Yes, well," I squinted against the sun to admire the blooming pink roses. "This certainly dwarfs it."

She nodded, as if she didn't need to be reassured of that fact, and from then on turned her attention to the Doctor, who was busy being doted upon by the ladies-in-waiting. I glanced out over the fountains that shot their sparkling clear water into the air so that it could cascade into the basin below. They were statues of cupids and one with a mother holding the hand of her child as they looked up into the sky. But my favorites were the angels. Their stony wings folded against their backs, their small faces turned into their palms. I saw two of them, I think, standing in the middle of the basin and surround by huge white roses.

"Really, ladies, I do need room to breathe," the Doctor tried to fend off the ladies around him and smiled sheepishly at me. I grinned back and returned my gaze to the fountains.

Both angels had turned their faces and were frowning at me.


	6. Chapter Five

I blinked and rubbed my eyes before looking back at the fountain. They had moved again, their whole bodies facing me, arms down at their sides, palms up, wings a little more outstretched as if they were to fly away at any moment. Wide eyed, I felt the evil hit my chest like a block of ice. I gasped, trying to catch my breath as my body shivered with evil.

"Lady Moon?" Queen Victoria set her hand over mine. Without thinking, I yanked it back and stood. Then, as an apology, I curtsied.

"Forgive me, I'm feeling very faint," I whispered, my eyes still on the stone angels who had refused to move since I last looked away. I stood up and walked backwards around my seat until I could turn without a barrier.

"Milady," I bowed my head before turning around on my heel.

"Grace!" The Doctor called after me, and I turned around.

The angels were now on the walkway, at least three feet away from the fountain.

"Not possible," I heard myself whisper. "No, not possible."

I saw the Doctor frown in confusion before turning to give himself a look. Immediately he jumped up out of the cloud of ladies-in-waiting and walked backward out of the canopy.

"Doctor?" I heard the Queen ask.

"Nothing to worry about, Vickie, dear," I heard him say as he backed out of the canopy and kept walking backwards until he got to my side.

"Doctor, what – what are those things?" I gripped the sleeve of his tailcoat. "They're so evil. I can feel it."

"Weeping Angels. Very evil, very dangerous. Don't take you eyes off of them," he whispered over my shoulder. "Try not to blink."

I swallowed hard, staring at the angels. "Isn't it funny how, when you tell someone not to do something, they instantly have the urge to do it. For instance," my eyes began to water. "I really have to blink."

The Doctor grabbed my elbow and we walked backwards to the end of the carpet.

"Can't they see them moving?" I asked as we came to a stop and looked over at the Queen and her ladies.

"No. I don't know why. They could be using a sort of shimmer, or something to hide their appearance. But I don't see anything."

The angels stood still, soft stone faces glaring at us. "What I'm wondering," the Doctor muttered to himself, "is how on earth did they get _here_?

"Alright, on my count, you run as fast as you can that way," he pointed left to another garden path without taking his eyes off of the angels. "I'll run in the opposite direction and try to meet up with you over there. Hopefully by then I'll have a plan." He removed his sonic screwdriver and it began to glow a gentle green. "Ready?"

"Run? In _this_ dress?"

"One,"

I kicked off those ridiculous shoes and gathered what I could of my dress in my fists.

"Two," the Doctor raised his screwdriver and prepared to take off.

Before I got ready to run, I glared at the angels.

"Come and get me, you rotten piece of earth!" I shouted as the adrenaline pounded in my head.

A smile broke out on the Doctor's face as he shouted "THREE!"

I turned and ran as fast as I could down the path, blinking while I still had the chance to. A tall square line of bushes marked the turn, and with the cold sensation on my neck I stopped to look around.

One angel stood halfway down the path with its hands like claws beside its head. Its face had contorted to a snarl, showing long sharp teeth. I stood without blinking for a moment to catch my breath, and then took off down the next path. I had to keep stopping and turning, stopping and turning, all the while watching the angel get closer. It got harder for me to run, with the heat from the sun and the layers of dress I had to run in. When I last turned around, the angel was less than six feet away from me. I turned again, and it was eight steps away, snarling at me.

"Grace!"

Against my better judgment I turned and the Doctor brought me in, not for a hug, but to keep an eye on the angel chasing me. The one chasing him was three feet away, snarling, a twin of the one chasing me. I felt the Doctor's breath on my neck as he steadied his pulse. His hands held fast to my upper arms and I found myself holding him tightly.

"Do you trust me?" He whispered into my ear.

"What?"

"I have a plan. I remember being in a similar situation. Now, do you trust me?"

I looked at the angel over his shoulder, how we were trapped in between them. The evil pulse against my skin, trying to find its way in, but I wouldn't let it. Unable to speak, I nodded.

"Alright. Just hold on to me,"

"You don't need to tell me that twice," I mock-laughed. I felt him smile against my ear. Then, without warning, he lifted me up and threw us against the giant bush beside us. We fell right through it, and his wig toppled off to show the crazy brown hair beneath and half my skirts fell back over my head, revealing my petticoat and underskirts. But all I could think of was the satisfying sound of rock splintering against rock, and I sat up. Through the hole we had made through the bushes, we could see the broken pieces of the Weeping Angels, their faces no longer snarling, but seemingly at peace. Or, pieces.

"Wonderful," the Doctor grabbed my face and planted a quick kiss on my forehead. "You did absolutely wonderful, Grace! Are you sure you haven't done this before?" He joked, still holding my face.

Nervously, I made a sort of breathless chuckle. "Oh, I'm very sure."

"Well," he tapped my nose, "you're a _natural_."

I smiled, and he grinned and rested his forehead against mine.

"If you wanted some time alone," Queen Victoria stood above us, hands in fists at her hips though there was a smile on her face. My two chambermaids covered their smiles with their hands when I raised my eyebrows at them. "All you needed to do was say so."

"I – no," the Doctor started, but I gabbed his face and kissed his nose. That shocked him into silence and he looked curiously at me. Then a grin broke out over his face before he looked back up at Victoria.

"I suppose there's no use in arguing any longer," he laughed, and tapped my nose again. With the adrenaline still pounding through me, I could have truly kissed him then and there. But with the Queen and her ladies and my maids staring down at us, I don't really think I could have, with all them watching.

Instead, a footman came and helped me up (which took a good minute because of my _damned_ _dress_) and I was offered a fan and a tall glass of wine to cool down. I downed the wine in one gulp and Victoria said, "There's my Gracie!" which almost caused me to spit it out with laughter. The Doctor was not as crowded with ladies as before, but they did amble behind him as he offered his arm to me.

"Well, this has all been a lot of fun, Your Majesty," he bowed low to the Queen, "ladies," they giggled behind their hands. "But I'm afraid we must be going." – insert over-dramatic sighing here – "No, no, don't fret. Saving the universe, escaping a Timeworm," the Doctor stepped forward to quickly kiss Victoria on the cheek.

"Yes, its loads of fun," I said sarcastically – though not _very_ sarcastic – as Victoria hugged me tightly.

"Oh, I shall miss you, Gracie," she said as she pulled away. "You must visit again sometime, both of you."

I looped my arm through the Doctors as he said, "We will, eventually, in the future. Maybe."

Queen Victoria smiled at us as we walked along the path towards where I suspect the Doctor landed the Tardis. When we were out of ear-shot, I beamed with giddiness.

"The Queen is going to miss _me_." I giggled, unable to hide how this whole ordeal affected me. "_Queen Victoria_ is going to miss her Gracie."

The Doctor laughed and patted my hand.

"Where to know? I believe we're far enough in the past to not be disrupted by the Timeworm, but I suppose anywhere from the 1950's backward will be good enough." We turned the corner bush and there was the Tardis. I was surprised at the feeling of relief I got when I saw it, and even more surprised at how at home I felt when we stepped inside.

"Well," I started undoing the pins in my hair and it tumbled around me like a rats nest. I didn't bother brushing it, but my neck felt much relieved. "I've always wanted to see New Orleans,"

"Very well,"

"In the Roaring Twenties, that is. I lived in Orleans for a while and would imagine how it would all look then."

The Doctor smiled at me over his levers and buttons. "To the Roaring Twenties!"

"To the stars, Doctor," I playfully corrected. Our eyes met, and his hand stilled over a lever.

"To the stars," he echoed, and off we went.


	7. Chapter Six

The music in the dance hall was loud as trombones and drums blasted through the dance hall. Smoke hung like a cloud above the dance floor, and the room was probably 82 degrees, but that wouldn't keep anybody in New Orleans from swinging it. In fact, with my Victorian get-up locked safely away in the Tardis, I couldn't help nearly dancing off the Doctor's arm as we walked into the club. I lost myself in a girlish squeal.

"Ain't this the cat's meow?" I said, unable to help myself. In my headache band and sequenced pink flapper dress and heels, it was impossible for me not to act the part. The music, not much different than when I lived her in the future, vibrated my bones until I couldn't help myself.

"Why don't you get us a table and a few martinis, Doc?" I let go of his arm and spun out to the dance floor. "I'm goin' out on the town!"

In the Roaring Twenties, nobody knew how to dance, save the ones who could pick up their girls and spin them all around before putting them back down on their feet and twisting naturally on the dance floor. I just jumped right in, in my element, _in the zone_, and I found myself partnering with a young black man in the middle of the dance floor. He grabbed my hand and spun me around, jumping in and out around me and we jived together on the dance floor. When the song ended, the crowd around erupted in applause and I bowed, sheepish and out-of-breath.

"You sure now how to jive, mamma," the man I had been dancing with spun me around playfully.

"You're a cool cat yourself," I laughed, then tried to steady myself as I got a head rush.

"Little John," he shook my hand.

"Grace, though people tend to call me Gracie."

He smiled, sweat glistening on his black skin. I'm pretty sure I was no less sweaty. "Gracie. I can dig it. You here with any fella, Miss Gracie?"

I paused, wiped my forehead and looked around the room. A new song had started up and people began their routine of jumping and dancing. "Actually–"

"Actually yes," the Doctor appeared at my side with my requested martini. He handed it to me. "And who might you be?"

"Doctor, this is Little John," I introduced, and they shook hands.

"The Doctor," he said as they shook.

Little John glanced at me and I just wave my hand. "Well, Doc, I'm not comin' onta your lady or anythin', but she sure does not how to swing it."

I laughed and took a nervous sip of my martini. The Doctor looked from him to me. "You out to sit down, catch your breath." He took my elbow and began to lead me through the crowd.

"Hey, Miss Gracie! Save a dance for me?"

I waved at him over the crowd. "Will do!"

The Doctor led me to a booth at the far corner of the club. Smoke hung low in the air and I was it away as I settled into the seat, sipping daintily on my martini. I looked out over the crowd, smiling and bouncing softly in my seat to the beat of the music. A fellow tossed his girl into the air, spun her, and caught her, and I let out a cheer with the rest of the crowd.

"Americans," the Doctor muttered, messing with his cuff-link.

"Hey," I punched his shoulder. "You look pretty American yourself." And he did, in a white tux and shiny black shoes, he was the apple of every other single ladies' eye in the club. I caught a few of them staring only to look away when they noticed me.

"I know. It's awful. I look American, I smell American."

I downed the rest of my martini and looked at him over the glass. "Americans don't have their own _smell_."

"That's what you think, you're American."

"And proud!" I moved out of the booth and stood up straight. "And if your attitude is going to be this sour all night, I'm going to sit somewhere else."

I could hear him scoff over the music. "And where might that be?"

Martini glass in hand, I scanned the dance floor, the full booths all around, looking for a spot. Then, miraculously, I glimpsed Little John in a booth across the club. I whipped around to face the Doctor.

"I'm going to go sit with John."

"John?"

"Little John," I said, both to inform the Doctor and to catch the attention of Little John across the room. Since the music was slowing down, he heard me and waved me over. "Hiya," I said, standing in front of the table. He sat with two other smiling black men, one who had a white little lady under his arm in a dark blue flapper dress. There was another girl who mirrored her brothers in color and wore an adorable yellow dress.

"Gang, this is Miss Grace, sometimes-called-Gracie," they roared hello, "Miss Gracie, this is Slim Foot, Shady, Little Anne, and my sister Louis." I shook their hands all around and Louis scooted in to make room from me.

"I ain't ever seen you around," the one called Shady said across the table. "You travelin'?"

"Yea, well," I played with the martini glass. "I'm an all-around kinda gal. Seein' the world and whatnot." _As in, also seeing moving statues and the Queen Victoria herself_. "It's alright if I sit here?"

"Fine by me,"

"Yea, alright,"

"Cool,"

"Hey, Miss Gracie," Little John leaned forward so that I could hear him better over the music. "What happened to your fella?"

I waved my hand and decided to glance around the room, as if I had lost him. In a moment I found out I had, since he wasn't sitting at our booth. I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Got into a little disagreement and I found out that I had better company to sit with," the table nodded at me.

"Maybe ya outta clear it up," Slim Foot mumbled, as if too nervous to speak. "Since ya travelin' with him 'n all."

"Are you married?" Shady shouted. Little Anne frowned up at him and he kissed her forehead. "I mean, no disrespect if ya ain't."

I avoided their gaze, acting like I was still searching for him. For some reasons, tears welled in my eyes. I was barely able to say, "It's complicated," before turning to look at Louis after she patted my shoulder.

"Well, I hope it ain't _too_ complicated," Little John said, "'cause here comes that Doctor fella now."

Not to be too obvious, I turned around nonchalantly and scanned the dance floor. The Doctor had his hands in his pockets and was strolling towards our table through the dancing crowd. The music had stopped for a stopped for a moment and some of the crowd went back to their seats and some went to the bar to rest and refresh. He stopped beside me and nodded to Little John. He nodded back politely.

"Gang, this is the Doctor, Miss Gracie's fella." Little John didn't introduce them all like he had with me, and the Doctor seemed to not have cared less when they all said hello.

"I'm not her _fella_," he said, and both Little Anne and Louis scoffed. The Doctor ignored that and offered his hand to me.

"I don't want to dance with you," I mumbled, crossing my arms. The table went quiet. Slim Foot lit a cigarette.

"Grace," the emotion in his voice made me look up at him. His eyes were hoping, thoughtful and… and sad. He still offered his hand to me. I glanced at Little John.

"Clear it up," Slim Foot badly whispered, and the table laughed.

"You don't need my permission, Miss Gracie," Little John smiled and took my martini glass.

Taking a deep breath, I took the Doctor's hand. He gently pulled me out of the booth and led me to the very middle of the dance floor and spun me around to face him.

"Now, I must warn you that I am a terribly awful dancer," he smiled, "but I think I may be able to manage."

Couples were staring at us, some smiling, some carelessly smoking a cigarette. "There's not even any–"

"Music?" He nodded at the band on the stage, and the man with the trombone nodded back. The man blew into the instrument and the band struck up a smooth, jazzy song that was slow enough for anyone to dance to. Couples brought their pair onto the floor and we were comfortably surrounded. The Doctor placed a hand on my hip; I set my hand on his shoulder, and he lifted the other one out beside us.

"You're not awful," I whispered jokingly, too nervous to keep looking into his eyes.

"Yes, well, I figured that the slower the better."

I blushed and looked away. The Doctor, embarrassed, closed his eyes.

"That didn't come out as I had intended it to,"

I laughed and shook my head. "It's fine. I know what you meant."

The Doctor nodded and looked out over my shoulder. We danced slowly, and I was filled with the same emotion I had on the top of the Ferris wheel. His smell surrounded me, masked the dingy smoke and brought me into a world of machinery and forests. The music enveloped me and I rested my head on his chest. I felt his face settled against my head, and slowly we turned with the beat of the music.

"Grace?" The Doctor's voice whispered against my cheek.

I raised my head to look up at him.

"If these were your last moments on this earth, ever,"

I let out a breath and shook my head. "Doctor, please, don't talk about–"

"Let me finish. If these were your last moments, are they good ones?" His green eyes looked teary. His eyebrows were drawn in concentration, awaiting my answer. "Are they good moments, Grace?"

I looked away, down at my feet, anywhere except him. I stopped dancing, and he dropped my hand and placed them both on my hips. Resting both my hands on his shoulders, I pressed my forehead against his chest.

"Grace?"

I stood on my toes, grabbing the fabric of his coat and pulled his lips down to meet mine. He stood still for a second, and I was afraid that he was going to pull away. But then his arms encircled my waist and pulled my closer, and I knew that he felt the same. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he deepened the kiss. He was so sweet and his taste, his smell, covered me. When I pulled away, barely, he smiled against my lips.

"I'm taking that as a yes,"

I laughed, nodding. "These are the best moments of my life," I whispered, and the crowd around us roared with clapping and shouts and whistles. Little John was laughing, clapping Slim Foot on the back, who was smiling at me. Louis and Little Anne were grinning too, and clapping with the crowd. Shady seemed very, very amused.

"Yes, right, nothing to see here," the Doctor waved one hand but held steadfast to me with the other. The crowd laughed and the band struck up a song with more jive, and instead of hiding out in the booth, the Doctor grabbed my hands and danced awfully the rest of the time we were there. And as he spun me around, swung his arms and laughed and danced with Little John and the Gang, I knew that I would never, not ever, regret that cold winter in London, where I jumped into that Tardis and simultaneously jumped into the greatest adventure of my life.


	8. Chapter Seven

It was three in the morning before we left the club. Louis and Little Anne hugged me good bye and Little John gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

"See ya 'round, Miss Gracie. Doc," he nodded to the Doctor before walking off along the Square with the Gang.

The Doctor shrugged off his coat and made me wear it, despite my protesting. The cuffs went past my fingers and I crossed my arms over my chest. By the chill, I guessed it to be early winter. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close as we walked down and around the Square.

"To the Tardis?" I wondered, even though we were walking in the opposite direction. We had left it on the docks in the care of an older fisherman. The Doctor smiled down at me but didn't answer.

"Where are we going?" My curiosity was over-whelming me. His smiled widened and he kissed the top of my head.

"Let's just say that I may have, possibly, gone to the future, still technically the past, and happened to see this happen."

I smacked his chest. "You _knew_ I was going to kiss you?"

"Of course."

"Now I feel cheated."

"Oh," he lifted me up into the air and spun me once. "Don't act so melancholy. We're hear to laugh, to sing, to dance,"

"I'll do the dancing. I think you should stick we the laughing and singing." I commented, and the Doctor wrapped his arm around my waist again.

"Ha, ha," he mock-laughed, and kissed my temple. We turned a corner and before us was an apartment with its balcony strung in lights. I stopped to admire it, but the Doctor kept walking.

"I suppose this is all your doing?" I jogged to catch up with him, and he opened the door for me. A small old lady sat behind the counter and winked at the Doctor. He smiled back, and she caught my hand before I went up the stairs.

"You've caught a good one there," she said, pointing up. I smiled and looked at the Doctor. He had stopped halfway up, his hands in his pockets, gazing at me past his eyelashes. My heart fluttered in my chest and I quietly thanked the lady before ascending to meet him. He took my hand and led me up the rest of the steps to the apartment door.

"Now, if this seems a little over the top, don't say anything at all, I'm terrible at these sorts of things," he leaned in, our foreheads touching. "But if it's absolutely perfect say something, anything at all." He went to open the door then stopped. "And if your mind for some reason changes and is nothing like I saw in the future, then–"

"Doctor," I cut him off and kissed his nose. "I'll love it."

"But you don't even know what 'it' is."

"Then _open the door_."

Reassured he smiled, and pushed the door open.

The apartment was open, no walls to separate the kitchen from the bedroom. White, soft curtains covered the full-length windows, shielding the room from the outside world. The same gentle material hung along the length of the ceiling, creating the illusion of walking inside a cloud. Rose petals were too much of a cliché for the Doctor; instead, fake white snow littered the floor in soft mounds of sparkling white powder. Tucked neatly into the snow were candles that lit the room everywhere, stacked along the floor to create a wide path to…

_The bed_.

A beautiful, off-white bed. My heart climbed into my throat, but there was still a nervous tick in my chest. I felt the tips of my fingers grow cold.

"Doctor–"

"Wait," he stepped around me, wary of the candles, and ran over the bedside table. "Wait," he removed a black velvet box from its drawn and returned to me. So close we were that I could see his hands shaking as he fumbled with the little box. "I told you," he chuckled nervously. "I'm terrible at these sorts of things."

"Doctor–" my voice cracked and a ball of emotion welled in my throat. Before he would let me say anything, he dropped to one knee, double-checking himself.

"This is how a regular bloke does it?"

Emotionally overwhelmed, I could only nod.

"Right-o, then," he cleared his throat and set the black velvet box on the floor beside him. With his hands free, he grabbed my marriage hand and held it nervously. Looking up at me, emotion swimming behind his green eyes, he let out a breath before speaking.

"Grace Ophelia Moon; for you it has only been a few days worth of adventures, but for me it has been a lifetime of laughter and of joy," he let out a nervous chuckle and looked away. When he looked back, tears welled in his eyes. "I can't explain everything to you, I wish I could but–" he shook his head, "But I can't. When I was sent to rescue you, the Ood had warned me about this. About us. About fabricating my own reality and mixing it in with yours. But I have seen us, Grace Moon, in the future, and I have seen the light shining in your eyes and I have seen pieces of myself being put together again and I can't imagine letting you go, ever." A tear fell from his eye, but his voice remained steady. "And so, Grace Moon," he let go of my hand and brought up the velvet box. Opening it, he held it up to me. It was not extravagant or a huge diamond surrounded by other diamonds; it was a beautiful white pearl surrounded by tiny crystals that glimmered like the stars.

"I ask you to follow me into the stars; to always be my companion." He pulled the ring out of the box and slid it onto my ring finger. "I ask you to be my wife."

If he were not holding it, my hand would be shaking. I used the other to cover my mouth, but that didn't keep the tears from falling.

"I'm sorry I don't have a proper minister; they all seem to be out dancing." He laughed at the irony. Then, his tone serious, he squeezed my fingers. "So?"

I threw myself onto my knees, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck and burying my face into his shoulder. "Yes," I cried, "yes, yes, yes, a thousand lives, a thousand times _yes_."

The Doctor laughed happily into my shoulder and pulled me tightly against his chest. Then he whispered something, a name I will always cherish, into my ear. I pulled back and touched his lips, ran my fingers gently through his hair, cupped his face in my hands.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, my lips brushing his. He smiled against my lips and kissed me gently. He kissed my lips, my nose, my eyes, the soft skin of my neck, and my lips again before standing up, pulling me with him. The Doctor picked me up bridal-style and swung around to face the bed. My heart fluttered wildly in my chest.

"Mrs. Doctor," he joked, and we both fell onto the bed.


	9. Chapter Eight

The warmth of the sheets surrounded me when I awoke. It was better than waking up in the palace of the Queen. It was better than dancing with folk from the Roaring Twenties. It was a better feeling than anything else I had felt in this whole entire world. The sheets tangled around my feet and I pulled them up to cover me. Beside me, the pillow and sheets were ruffled, and I tucked the sheets around me as I sat up.

One window was open, overlooking the bustling city of New Orleans. The Doctor stood leaning on the balcony tied in a plain blue robe. A similar one of soft pink rested at the foot of the bed. I got up and tied myself into it, relishing the soft material, and stood behind the Doctor. He looked at me over his shoulder and offered out his hand, turning back to look at the city. I took it, and he pulled me in between him and the balcony.

"Twelve thousand people," he whispered into my hair, and I followed his gaze along the skyline of the city. "And all of them combined could not be as happy as you've made me." He kissed my head and warmth spread through me. I turned to face him, leaning against the balcony, his arms trapping me in safely.

"That happy?"

He touched his forehead to mine. "So much happier than that." He grabbed my hands and pulled me into the apartment, jumping and swinging my arms and pulling me in circles. "I could sing a whole ballad in Croaton – a difficult language, mind you." He held me against his chest and we did a terrible version of the salsa. "I could paint the Pyramids. I could face a thousand evils in a thousand lives and still be the happiest Time Lord to ever live." He shouted it, like a little boy, and spun me round and round. Overwhelmed being an understatement, I had nothing to say when he kissed the exposed skin of my neck as I threw my head back to laugh.

"Doctor," he kept spinning me, shouting happily what I supposed was the Croaton ballad. "Doctor!"

He stopped spinning me. I gave myself a minute to gather myself. "And where to for the honeymoon?"

"You don't like New Orleans?" His face fell. A sort of disappointment in himself blinked into his eyes as he rubbed his chin.

"No! – I mean, yes, I love this city. But, you know, most, er, _regular_ couples go on honeymoons after they are married."

"Paris!" He snapped, as if he hadn't heard me at all. He took up my hands again. "That's a romantic city, filled with romantic places and romantic things, yes?"

I grinned, nodding. "Yes."

"Right-o, to the Tardis!" He turned and ran out of the apartment, still in only his robe. I gave it a moment, and then fearful that he had left, I ran and stood at the top of the stairs. There I saw him stop on the sidewalk, turn around, and run back into the building. "But first," he sped past me, "clothes." He searched the floor for the pieces of his tux and quickly pulled them on when he found them. I frowned at the flapper dress and draped it over my arm.

The Doctor's eyebrows came down. "You're not changing?"

"Back into that?" I slipped my feet into the soft pink heels, but that's as far as I was going. "No." I then walked out of the apartment in my robe, followed by the Doctor in only his pants and half-buttoned shirt.

"Bye-bye, now," the little lady waved to us as we left, looking thoroughly amused. I blushed and simply nodded at her, while the Doctor quickly shook her hand before following me out.

"_Now_ to the Tardis?"

"Now, to the stars." The Doctor looped his arm threw mine and took off in a sprint. What a sight the pair of us must have been; I in my house robe and he nearly undressed himself. We did get an awful lot of looks as we ran by, but we also got an awful lots of smiles our way. I wondered then how many of them had love like this once but had lost it, and now either sought out love in everything or disposed of love altogether. But I knew that my Doctor have my forever, even if our forever comes to an end.

When I look back on it now, I realize how short our forever really was.


	10. Chapter Nine

The Doctor left me on a bench overlooking the river and the little shops that crowded the streets on either side. Why he left and what he was doing was completely oblivious to me, but I forced myself not to worry. Dressed in jeans, a grey turtle neck and black coat, I faded into the 20th century crowd of tourists and locals that roamed the streets. I flicked my sunglasses over my eyes and crossed my arms, not impatient, but nervous. The Doctor had taken us forward in time, and even on our adventures the Timeworm was still in my head, waiting patiently until it decided to strike again. Looking around, I couldn't help but be paranoid. It could materialize anywhere, and it was fast. The possibility of the Timeworm arriving here was slim to non-existent, the Doctor had said before taking off. You have nothing to worry about, my Grace.

"_Souhaitez-vous les nouvelles, madam?_" A grimy old man pushing a buggy filled with newspapers appeared beside me, offering me a paper.

"No," I shook my head. The man smiled.

"Ah, American," his accent bled through his English, but he was altogether understandable. "How are you liking Paris? Not here on your own now, are we?"

Wary of him and how much I should say, I shook my head. "The Doc – my husband, he just stepped aside to get us something to drink. He should be back any time now." There. That should warn him if he was ever thinking of mugging me. But he couldn't possibly mug me in front of –

"All these people?" He smiled down at me. My heart pounded in my head. How could he possibly know what I was thinking. "What people, madam?"

Suddenly we were alone. The bridge was empty, the streets were cleared. The buggy filled with newspapers was no longer beside him. Even the boats that had been passing before us were gone. Vanished, into thing air.

"Doctor!" I cried out. The man shook his head.

"He can't hear you," he said. "This is all in your mind." He poked my forehead and I slapped his arm away. I stood up and backed away from him.

"Who are you? _What_ are you?"

"The Ood have warned the Doctor of the dangerous tying himself to you might bring."

"Ood? You're an Ood? But…" he looked normal, human. A weathered face, grey, greasy hair. The working hands of a man lost to the world.

"Your human mind rejects my true image. You see what you want to see."

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and when I looked back his image was foggy, like I was looking through a cloudy window. Through the cloud I could see small details; a beard of tentacles, a glowing orb set into the chest. I blinked, forcing myself to see what was truly there, and when I looked there was the full alien image of the Ood. I took a cautious step back.

"Why are you here?"

"Your relationship with the Doctor has fabricated a whole other realm in which we cannot control. He was only meant to save you and defeat the Timeworm. He was warned of the repercussions."

"_What_ repercussions?" I shouted. "What have we done by falling in love?"

"It is not so much love as it is loneliness," the Ood said quietly. "With you by the Doctor's side, he is unwary and careless. He has even threatened you by bring you close to the reach of the Timeworm."

"No, no he said it's too old. He checked the saliva on my old jacket. He said it can't move out of the 22nd century."

"He was wrong." The Ood removed the ball from its chest and looked fondly at it. "Though the Ood cannot control your actions or that of the Doctor's, we offer suggestions. Leave the Doctor. He will be able to move you into a realm in which the Timeworm cannot attack you. We are unsure if he will ever find a way to stop it in this realm. But, for the safety of the universe and all universes, _you must leave him._"

Suddenly I was surrounded by people. The foghorn of a boat passing blared, sending gulls into the sky. There was a great throbbing in my skull and I stumbled, barely able to reach the railing of the bridge to catch myself before I fell. I leaned over the railing, feeling as if I were going to puke. I felt a hand on my arm, holding me steady.

"Grace?" The Doctor, his green eyes dazzling in his tweed suit, held me up and brushed the hair out of my face. In one hand he held a roll of paper tied together with a red, aging string. I only noticed the red ink for a moment before blinking and turning back to him.

"I saw him – I – it – the Ood," I pressed my face against his chest.

"Oh," the Doctor pocketed the roll of paper and wrapped him arms around me. "Oh, no," His voice did little to reassure me and tears sprung into my eyes. "Grace, Grace," he pulled away and held my face. "What did he say? The Ood, what did he tell you?"

Our eyes locked and I saw the whole world in his. All of the pain he had seen, and the evil and the people he had to give up. My heart constricted in my chest and I gripped his coat.

"You were wrong about the Timeworm," I whispered, "it's not old enough. It can come back. It can kill me." I bit my lip, the unspoken truth ringing in my ears. _You must leave him… for the safety of the universe… leave the Doctor._

For a long time he said nothing. Then he pulled away, grabbing my hand and running off the bridge. "We have to visit the Ood. Now. The Elder, he may have an idea on how to stop the Timeworm."

I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying anything out-loud. _They don't know how to stop it either. They don't know if there is even a way to stop it_.

* * *

The Tardis felt unhappy. I don't know how to explain it, but when I stepped in, the atmosphere was heavy and sad. When I held onto the railing as we went off, the Doctor concentrating on his buttons and screens, I felt as though the Tardis was trying to comfort me.

"You take care of him, now," I whispered to her, staring at the glowing buttons in front of me. Tears brimmed in my eyes and I believe the whirring of the Tardis to be her answer to me. "Take very good care of him."


	11. Chapter Ten

We arrived in a world of pebbles and rocky hills with a pale light that seemed to come from everywhere. I stepped out of the Tardis, following the Doctor as he looked around, saying something to himself. I patted the little-big blue box as I observed the world around us. This world felt grey and lifeless. It mirrored my feelings perfectly.

"Grace!" The Doctor stood some ways off on a pebbled path. I stroked the Tardis once more, nodding at her, before jogging over to the Doctor's side. "Now, the Ood are very friendly, but to prevent any hostility, just let me do all the talking."

An Ood, the very same Ood I had just seen in my head, appeared before us. He paid no attention to me, even pretended that he didn't see me standing in front of him while my heart beat wildly, nevously.

"The Elder Ood has been waiting," he said to the Doctor, and turned without a word to lead us the rest of the way.

The grey light was beginning to fade, and soon we walked in near-darkness. I held fast to the Doctor's hand, guilt spreading like a weed in my chest, and we arrived at a path that was lit with spots of fire on each side. The Ood and the Doctor were speaking to each other, but I was hardly paying any attention. Over the next hill we descended into a low, flat valley. A circle of Oods sat together, a large fire glowing warm and flickering in the middle. Appearing at the head of the circle was an Ood in off-white robes. His oval head was more formed to his brain, showing how much older he was than those who sat around him. The Ood that guided us stopped and stood off to the side, leaving the Doctor and I to stand awkwardly before the circle.

"Elder Ood, you're looking well," the Doctor said, trying to lighten the mood.

"You have brought your human." The Elder turned his tentacle face to me.

"My name is Grace," the circle turned their faces from me to each other, not saying a word.

"You have received our warnings, Grace?" The Elder asked. I nodded. He didn't ask specifically _which_ warnings, so, technically, I wasn't lying by keeping the Doctor from knowing what I was told. "Sit," the circle opened up enough for the Doctor and I to sit. The Ood beside me took my hand. It was leathery and moist and I resisted the urge to yank my hand away. The Oods lengthened a single tentacle before gasping hands with their neighbors. "See what we see,"

I looked at the Doctor. He bopped my nose before reaching for my hand. Once the circle was connected, I had the feeling of floating, then being pushed off the edge of a cliff. From that cliff I fell into a hole of light and sounds that rushed past me. I think I squeezed my eyes shut but the colors, the stars, kept rushing past me. The Elder Ood's voice echoed in my head.

"History has revealed to us the wake of the Timeworm," – _flashes of pinks and yellows, and the faded image of the Timeworm terrorizing small aliens with three glowing eyes_ – "Without one to stop its evil, whole worlds will fall apart. Universes will shatter," – _I saw the sun, a white hot glowing orb, implode on itself and shoot a wave of heat and light through my universe, splitting the planets, earth, in half_ – "You cannot run any longer, or you risk destroying whole worlds." – _people screamed in my mind, cries of anguish and fear shouted out from the void I had fallen into_ –

I broke the circle, yanking back my hands, my breath short and light. My face was wet and I wiped the tears and sweat away. There was an aching in my head and I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes.

"What you have seen, Grace Moon of Earth," the Elder said, adjusting his tentacle. "Is the history that will unfold if you do not leave."

"Leave?" The Doctor frowned. "What do you mean, leave?"

The Elder Ood bowed his head at me, but said nothing until I looked away. "We have sent you to save Grace, not to bond her to you. You have saved her. It is done."

"No, it's not done," the Doctor fumed, his hair falling across his forehead. "The Timeworm is still out there, it's still chasing her."

"It will always be there," said the Elder.

"Then she will never leave."

The Elder and the Doctor faced each other, and though it was hard to read an Ood's emotions, the Elder did not look pleased.

"Doctor," I whispered.

He didn't let me finish. "Don't worry, Grace, you're not going anywhere. And you–"

"_Doctor_,"

He turned to me, and upon finally seeing my tired face, he frowned. "No."

"If you don't let me go, that thing will always be out there." Screams still echoed in my head. I resisted the urge to press my hands aganst my ears to shut them out. I couldn't have all of those dying people on my conscience.

"No. Time can always be rewritten."

The Elder shook his head.

"Not this time," I said. Then, feeling their eyes on me, I stood up. "We… the Tardis."

The Doctor stood quickly, the anger boiling just beneath the surface of his skin. In all politeness I nodded to the circle of aliens. The Elder Ood looked sadly back at me.

* * *

He didn't look at me the whole trip as he stormed back to the Tardis. When the blue police box appeared, he paced in front of it.

"Time can be rewritten," he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair. "Time can always change."

"Doctor,"

He stopped pacing and grabbed my arms. "I have live for over 900 years 'letting go' of every person I have ever cared about, watching them live and grow old and die and I will not let go of you." Tears sprang into his eyes and he held my face. I rested my forehead against his and took a shallow breath.

"You have to. You have to let me go." My tears trailed down my face and I angrily wiped them away. My whole word was falling to pieces right in front of me. "All those people..."

He shook his head. "I know," he whispered, breathless. "I know."

We stood there in the dark, holding each other, breathing the last scent of our world in deeply. When he stepped back he took my hand and laced my fingers through his. He snapped his fingers and the Tardis doors opened almost sadly and we stepped in. The whole way, he held my hand, not looking at me as he guided the Tardis to whichever universe was safest for me. When the whirring stopped I let out a sob, and the air around me was melancholy. The Doctor wrapped his arm around my waist, tears in his eyes, and kissed my temple.

Placing a hand over my stomach, he spoke into my hair. "I brought us to the best place, the safest place I know for _her_."

The doors of the Tardis opened. Light streamed in from outside, harsh and white and beautiful. "I call it the Palace of the Angels."

"Sounds heavenly," I laughed through my tears. He guided me towards the door with an arm around my waist. The Light was beautiful and washed me with a dauntless hope as I stared into it. The Doctor moved and took up my ring hand, playing with the pearl.

"I will come back," he promised, a whole world of hope breaking apart in his eyes. "I will stop the Timeworm,"

"Save the universe," I added. He smiled as a tear fell, and tucked my hair behind my ear.

"And come back for you."

I smiled, the flashes of out adventures swimming behind my eyes. The small things he did then; holding me face; touching my nose playfully; believing in me when I was on the verge of giving up on myself. Crying, I stood on my toes and said, "It's a date."

He kissed me tenderly, touching my chin, moving his hands to hold my face close to his for one moment longer. "Grace," his lips brushed my as he spoke. "My gentle, beautiful Grace." He kissed my forehead. Then, in a whisper, "It's time to go."

A long time ago, I read an anatomy book. There was a page, hardly anything terrific, dedicated to the heart. It said that the feeling you have when something utterly tragic happens – someone dies, someone leaves – causes the heartstrings, the webbed strings inside the heart, to break. It said that you could truly die of a broken heart.

"Well, then… to the stars, Doctor."

He kissed my forehead.

"Hello?" someone called out curiously from the Light. A shock of red hair appeared. She was some ways off, encased in the blinding white. A figure appeared beside her, a man, though their faces were shining and hard to see. "Doctor?"

"They are good people," he promised, and kissed my forehead one last time.

I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. The Doctor stepped back enough to let me walk through the door. Before I stepped out into the harsh whiteness, I ran a hand over the door of the Tardis.

"Keep your promise," I whispered, and stepped into the Light.


	12. Questions You May Want Answered

You can't run with the Doctor forever.

You have taken the time to read _An American Intervention_, and you don't understand how truly grateful I am that you would set aside the time in your day to read my humble words. No doubt, many of you have questions. _What about the Timeworm? Will the Doctor find a way to kill it? Will Grace and the Doctor ever really be back together? What is the Palace of the Angels? Did Grace actually die?_ I have felt obligated to answer these questions because, though cliff-hangers are necessary to keep the reader wanting, they're also a pain in the ass.

The Timeworm and what the Doctor will do with it is something I can't really go into detail with… I do plan on writing another fanfiction that follows him for a short time between worlds (maybe have a few run-ins with a couple 'a Daleks and Cybermen?). So, to keep the mystery covered, that's all I can say about that.

Same goes for the curiosity of whether or not the Doctor really finds a way to save Grace. I know I didn't explain much of why the Timeworm was after her, and I feel like I should give you that tidbit, since anything else about Grace and the Doctor might give something away…

…As I have explained in the third chapter, the Timeworm has to kill Grace in every parallel universe/ dimension so that the possibility of ever being threatened by her (in the future) and of the Doctor ever saving her in non-existent. The reason it comes after her it because it has sensed the future, seen it, and has seen the Doctor doing _something_ (Trying to save Grace? Trying to kill it?) and because of that, has targeted Grace in the past. And that's where the story starts.

No, Grace did not die (and yes, she is pregnant!). I often create many of my own creatures and places, and the Palace of the Angels is one of those big bursts in my head that just happen to be a good idea. The Palace is a world in-between the universes, which is why the Timeworm is unable to breech it and kill Grace when they arrive. Since it is not a parallel universe/ dimension, nor is it bound by time, the Timeworm cannot reach it. It is a Safe Haven for those who need protecting, as well for those who have died (*wink, wink*). It is, I suppose, a heaven, but it is not entirely a _dead_ _only_ heaven, if you get what I'm saying.

The Doctor knew about the pregnancy because he has seen their life, remember? If you don't, just quickly read his proposal in Chapter Eight…

Done? Good, onward we go.

Now, the biggest question of them all: _Did the Doctor know this was going to happen?_

If you were paying attention to a curious little roll of paper and red ink in Paris, you should be smart enough to answer your own question. If not, I supposed I must spell it out for you: he knew that the major parts (meeting/ saving Grace, falling in love, having to leave) would happen, but there are details (like flipping Weeping Angels and the Ood) he didn't know. And no doubt this brings up a whole new line of questions, all that, I assure you, will be answered in an arrangement of shorter fanfictions that will include letters from Grace, to the Doctor; and letters from the Doctor, to himself (which are the red-inked letters he grabs in Paris).

I hope this was enough… Please, really, if you have anything you would like to be answered that I have not mentioned above, send me a message and I will do my best to answer it, and thank you again for reading!

Geromino!  
- A/G/S


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